<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>come, and feast by redlightofdawn</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27312829">come, and feast</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/redlightofdawn/pseuds/redlightofdawn'>redlightofdawn</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Sex, Body Horror, Bottom Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Copious Amounts of Come, Dom Jaskier | Dandelion, Dom/sub, Fuck Or Suffer, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has a Praise Kink, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia is a Size Queen, Halloween, Jaskier | Dandelion Has a Big Dick, M/M, Monsterfucker Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Non-Human Genitalia, Non-Human Jaskier | Dandelion, Part Incubus Jaskier | Dandelion, Saovine, Size Kink, Sub Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Top Jaskier | Dandelion, Under-negotiated Kink, light humiliation kink</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 20:46:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,918</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27312829</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/redlightofdawn/pseuds/redlightofdawn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>During Saovine, the veil between worlds is particularly thin, and all sorts of creatures come out to play.<br/>Including Jaskier’s less than human side.<br/>.<br/>.<br/>.<br/>Or the one where Geralt finds out Jaskier sometimes turns into an incubus.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>668</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Geraskier Kink Bingo</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>come, and feast</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Have some Halloween porn!</p><p>    A couple of notes:</p><p>    1) This fic ended up much more fluffy than I expected</p><p>    2) Having that said, this fic is "fuck or die" adjacent, meaning you can argue there's an element of dub-con. Don't be mistaken, both Jaskier and Geralt are very into everything that happens, but keep yourselves safe - feel free to give this a miss or message me @ redlightofdawn-writes.tumblr.com if there's any specific warnings you might require.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>Fuck</em>, Jaskier thought, as he ran up a hill, away from the village where he and Geralt had stopped for the night, away from it’s denizens and their revelry and celebrations.</p><p>Most importantly, away from Geralt.</p><p><em>Pustulent, mangy balls</em>, he continued, with feeling, as he nearly tripped over a prominent root.</p><p>Normally, Jaskier would be ecstatic that, unlike previous years, Geralt seemed in no rush to leave his side. He’d be completely over the moon that Geralt had even made some noises in the sense of Jaskier maybe coming to Kaer Morhen this year - of course he’d never outright ask - even if he knew his friend was as likely to follow through on that as he was to simply be gone one morning, only to be seen again next summer.</p><p>And yet Jaskier couldn’t even bring himself to be cautiously excited.</p><p>He was, if anything, growing in anxiety and desperation by the minute.</p><p>The hunger that had started, as always, as a niggling desire for sweets and grown into a voracious need for meat and marrow, he’d been able to mostly hide from Geralt. The witcher had made a comment or two - including a joke about pregnancy Jaskier <em>certainly</em> hadn’t been expecting - but didn’t seem particularly suspicious, perhaps due to his own self described ignorance about humans. That Jaskier had managed to sneak away to catch a bird or two whenever the urge had become unbearable, the delicate bones pleasantly crunchy under his teeth during this time of year, had perhaps also played a part in his deception being successful.</p><p>The long, baggy sleep pants he’d bought a few villages ago had taken care of other, ah, <em>less seeming</em> issues that had otherwise been kept out of sight by his usual attire, and with the weather turning early this year, there had been no reason for Geralt to question Jaskier’s apparent change of heart on his long maintained stance on sleeping in the nude.</p><p>A change in his <em>other </em>appetites had also gone unnoticed - unsurprising, since Jaskier was unwilling to sate those particular desires, even if the refusal was probably born from an abundance of caution. </p><p>But now… he had been feeling the dreaded itching on his scalp for days. It started small, like everything else, and grown and grown until it was nigh unbearable. He knew what would come now - same as it did every year - and there was only so much he could do about it. </p><p>Namely, <em>run</em>.</p><p>Hopefully the witcher would simply think he’d decided to scurry away with a like-minded villager to make their own private festivities when he realises Jaskier is gone.</p><p>It feels unnatural, running away. Not that he had anything against a hasty retreat - had perfected them over the years, truth be told. But tonight… his blood is thrumming in his veins, pulsing to the rhythm of drums he can’t hear but knows are beating as inexorably as he knows his own name. They bid him return and give in. </p><p>Jaskier grits his teeth tightly and continues his climb, not stopping even as he hurriedly and clumsily shed the cheap undershirt and sleep pants - he hadn’t bothered with shoes. The cloth felt like sandpaper on his skin, overheating and irritating, and he was glad to be rid of it, finally. Not like anyone was here to see him, now.   </p><p>When he finally reaches the top of the hill, Jaskier caresly tosses the bunched up clothing aside - it’ll probably be there in the morning, but even if it’s not, he’ll hardly be the only person walking back to his rooms in less than presentable fashion. The old traditions had been stamped out of much of the continent, but in these smaller, isolated villages they lived on. Tonight there were costumes and dances and rituals to ward off that which was unwanted, yes. And away from the too young or too old, the drums beat and the fires burn for another type of ritual. An offering.</p><p>An offering his blood was screaming at him to accept. </p><p>The hilltop was devoid of the thicker growth he’d had to fight off at the base - the very reason he had chosen this hill as his hideout for the night - forming a small clearing, and he can see the moon hanging full upon the cloudless sky. The thrumming in his blood has morphed into an incessant buzzing under his skin, sizzling along the pleasure-pain of the chaos working on him.</p><p>Changing him.</p><p>Jaskier idly notes the grass beginning to darken where he stands a moment before the first scream is torn from him.</p><p>The uncomfortable pressure in his head seems to explode in a burst of pain. His scalp throbs and burns, his head heavy, and he can feel the rivulets of blood running down his head, but that pain is oddly detached. It’s secondary to the fire in his middle, where he can feel the skin rippling and shifting under his hands where they clutch as his stomach, like he has angry snakes inside his gut. His legs give under him with a sickening crunch and he hardly notices.</p><p>The unwavering scream tearing from his throat crests as the full moon reaches its zenith above him. </p><p>The grass is gently smoking under him as he comes to, his accelerated breathing sounding harsh to his own ears. His body and mind are taken over by the memory of pain for several long moments before he can calm himself down and access that the pain is, in fact, gone.</p><p>He feels good, actually, better than he ever does, and he hates it nearly as much as the pain.</p><p>Jaskier arranges himself slowly into something resembling a sitting position - he knows better than to try to stand up for a while yet. </p><p>He’s massaging his calves - they don’t hurt exactly, no, but they never feel quite <em>right </em>like this either - when he hears the voice.</p><p>“<em>Jaskier</em>!”</p><p>It’s still far away, though Geralt’s irritated tone - the one he uses when he’s worried but doesn’t want to let show - is instantly recognizable. </p><p>Jaskier’s eyes alight on the pile of clothing he unceremoniously dropped to the floor earlier. It’s across the clearing and Jaskier’s legs still haven’t regained their usual sureness, there’s no way he’ll make it before Geralt reaches the top and, even if he could, there’s nothing there that will be able to hide the way he looks now.</p><p>“Jaskier, <em>answer me</em>!”</p><p>Jaskier tries, anyway. </p><p>The sharp pebbles under the heel of his hands and knees sting, but aren’t able to break the skin - <em>little mercies</em> - when Jaskier lurches to his feet and promptly falls down. He doesn’t let it deter him. He drags himself, crawling towards his clothes with single minded determination, even as he hears the crunch of leaves under Geralt’s feet, approaching fast. </p><p>Geralt breaks into the clearing just as Jaskier’s fingers reach the hem of his shirt.</p><p>“Jaskier!” <em>His voice is truly worried now</em>, Jaskier notices with strange satisfaction, even as Geralt skids to a halt, a few yards away from him.</p><p>“Please go away,” Jaskier mumbles, knowing it to be loud enough for the witcher’s keen hearing. He keeps his back turned to Geralt, head bowed as much as he can.</p><p>He knows it is futile. The full moon is bright enough even for a human’s eyesight, for a witcher the clearing was probably as well lit as if it had been daytime.</p><p>And he knew what Geralt was seeing. </p><p>The ram-like horns emerging from the nest of sweat-and-blood matted hair must look especially gruesome, covered in blood as they must be. The same blood that stains his fisted hands and runs freely down his face, neck and bare chest. Those don’t look much different, he knows. </p><p>If only the same could be said about the rest of him.</p><p>Instead of his chest hair thinning to only a stripe beneath his navel, starting below his ribs there’s <em>fur </em>that turns thick as it covers his hips and legs, its shade the same warm, red tinged brown as his hair. Come to it,  <em>legs</em> might not be the proper descriptor - <em>hinquarters</em>, Jaskier thinks, bitterly, <em>would be a better fit</em>. </p><p>There are <em>hooves</em>, the same glimmering black as his horns, and that’s to say nothing of the tail, short and bushy against his fured buttocks. </p><p>“<em>Please</em>, Geralt,” Jaskier mutters, still unable to look at the witcher. </p><p>The last thing he wanted was for Geralt to see him like this.</p><p>It’s not that he is ashamed of his inheritance. Once upon a time, he had been strangely proud that his now stuffy family had, once upon the type, contained the type of person that would not only survive bedding an incubus, but also would keep and claim the resulting child. </p><p>But then he’d grown, and seen what the world thought of those who were different. </p><p>“Are you hurt?” isn’t what he expects to hear, but it doesn’t stop Geralt from saying it. </p><p>“No,” Jaskier finds himself answering; he had never been able to ignore a question from his witcher. “The blood, it’s, ah, the horns-,” Jaskier cut himself off forcefully, with an audible click of his teeth as his jaw snapped. Now was not the time. “I asked you to <em>leave</em>.”</p><p>And still, Geralt did not seem to be in a hurry to move.</p><p>Cursing himself for his damnable curiosity, Jaskier tears his eyes away from his own clenched, bloodied fists and chances a look at Geralt.</p><p>Who stands tall in the middle of the clearing, silver hair shining in the moonlight, a faint sheen of sweat glistening on his skin, and looking at Jaskier as if entranced. </p><p>Which is when he notices it, a feeling like a faint, warm tingling, pulling at him. The thrumming in his blood has grown to a full symphony - the rhythm of the drums is now accompanied by the clear, high notes of the revelers’ climaxes as the celebrations reach their apex - and by all rights it should drown out such a, for the lack of a better word, timid feeling. But there is something that sets it apart, that draws it to the forefront of his perception.</p><p>It feels familiar.</p><p>It feels like <em>Geralt</em>.  </p><p><em>Geralt’s desire</em>.</p><p>Jaskier doesn’t stumble as he rises to his feet- <em>hooves</em>. He normally struggles with making his legs cooperate when he’s like this, the movements feeling alien and unnatural. But as he slowly makes his way toward Geralt, his steps are elegant and precise; for once his conscious mind is sufficiently occupied so his instincts can take over. </p><p><em>Geralt wants him</em>.</p><p>“What are you even doing here?” Jaskier finds himself asking as he comes to stand before the witcher. </p><p>He’s considerably taller like this, he realises for the first time. More than enough to overcome the couple of inches Geralt has on him, and then some.</p><p>Having the witcher look up at him shouldn’t be such a heady feeling, and yet.</p><p>“I heard you scream,” Geralt mumbles, seeming to be half dazed, eyes never leaving Jaskier’s face.</p><p>Jaskier is suddenly reminded what his eyes look like, now - still blue, yes, but rimmed in black, his pupils vertically slitted.</p><p>He fights the urge to look away.</p><p>“And I told you I am fine and asked you to leave. But here you remain.”</p><p>Geralt doesn’t answer him. This close, Jaskier can see a drop of sweat run down Geralt’s temple and neck, incongruous with the cold bite of a mid autumn night. </p><p>Not that Jaskier feels cold, either. Tonight, there’s fire running in his veins.</p><p>Now that he has identified it, Jaskier cannot tune out Geralt’s desire. It feels all encompassing, like Geralt’s callused hands are caressing him all over. His hands itch to return the favour, his tongue to taste the sweat straight off Geralt’s skin.</p><p>He’s distracted enough that the first cramp below his midriff takes him by surprise, and he can’t keep the flinch off his face. </p><p>“What’s wrong,” Geralt asks with his typical lack of inflection, though Jaskier can see the worry in the way his hand shoots out to touch Jaskier, only to hang midair halfway there, as if Geralt is unsure he is allowed. </p><p>“Nothing,” Jaskier says through clenched teeth, even as a second wave of pain explodes from his middle, enough to make his knees weak.</p><p>“I can smell you’re in pain,” Geralt snaps back, the worry seemingly enough to break him out of his apparent trance. Jaskier starts to pace in what he knows is a futile effort to walk off the pain, uncaring of the way flames erupt under his hooves as he tramples the dried out grass. “Jaskier!”</p><p>“<em>And I</em>,” Jaskier spits, whirling to face Geralt once more, poison dripping from his words even as his brain screams at him he will regret the words, but the mix of desire and frustration and <em>pain</em> are screaming at him even louder, egging him on. “<em>can feel that</em> <em>you want me</em>, doesn’t mean we have to do anything about it!”</p><p>Jaskier, in the back of his mind where the part of him that is a bard is always looking at life like a ballad, can’t help but think Geralt’s reaction is anticlimactic. He doesn’t rush to deny or even seem surprised by Jaskier’s vitriol.</p><p><em>Of course</em>, Jaskier thinks, bitterly, as Geralt watches him in silence, his head cocked like he is solving a particularly complex witchering problem. Geralt probably knows more about incubi than Jaskier was able to gather from his father’s uncooperative grunts and the few books he had found on the subject that weren’t outright fiction and porn. He could probably tell the moment Jaskier’s incubus aura started to affect him, probably knows better than Jaskier himself how far his powers extend. </p><p>“Tell me what you need,” Geralt finally says, no fear or worry but only a slightly calculating expression upon his face. The witcher’s calm only works to feed Jaskier’s anger further, and he can’t help his outburst.</p><p>“What do you think? I need <em>sacrifice</em>, Geralt, I need a human to hand me their life so I can fuck their life force out of them and into <em>me</em>.”</p><p>His voice rings out in the empty clearing. Geralt barely reacts, his voice calm when he speaks again.</p><p>“It can be done safely.”</p><p>“<em>I am aware</em>,” Jaskier nearly screams - he’d never actually hurt anyone long term, though he’d come close - but when he continues, his voice is down to a murmur. “It is not worth the risks.”</p><p>“Incubi can’t hurt witchers,” Geralt says, after a moment of silence, and Jaskier can’t believe his ears.</p><p>“So you’re offering?” Jaskier replies, nastily, still stunned by the turn in conversation. </p><p>“You said so yourself, you know I want you,” Geralt says, still far, far too calm given the situation. </p><p>“I won’t take advantage just because you happened to fall for my trance, Geralt, for Melitele’s sake!”</p><p>Geralt, for the first time, frowns and looks confused. </p><p>“You wouldn’t be,” Geralt says, slowly. “Incubus don’t create attraction where there’s none - did no one teach you this?”</p><p>“Who would? My father, who is so deeply ashamed of his heritage he only explained to me <em>after</em> the first time I turned into this? And even then only the bare minimum? Or perhaps the incubus who fucked my grandmother and left, never to be seen again?”</p><p>“You could have asked me.”</p><p>“Because you’re so forthcoming with your words, Geralt!”</p><p>“If you had told me-”</p><p>“And have you know I turn into this? <em>Willingly</em>?”</p><p>“I wouldn’t have judged,” Geralt says, and Jaskier wonders if he’s imagining the hurt in his voice. He feels his self indignation finally deflate, taking his anger and leaving only pain and shame in its place. Defeated, Jaskier allows his knees to finally give out from under him, collapsing to an uncoordinated heap.</p><p>“I know,” Jaskier mutters, eyes fixed on the smoking leaves under him, unable to look at the witcher. He’s seen the Geralt help those the world deemed monsters enough times to know he would be the last one to think less of Jaskier for not being fully human. And yet he’d been afraid. “I didn’t want the way you see me to change.”</p><p>“It didn’t. It won’t,” Geralt seems to hesitate. “Incubus don’t create attraction, Jask - they just tap into what is there. Make it harder to ignore.”</p><p>“It’s not just that,” Jaskier says, quickly, unwilling to dwell on the implications of what Geralt is telling him. “It… changes me. I used to go to the fires, when I was younger. And then people started commenting on my youthful looks - because I’d <em>stopped ageing</em>, Geralt.” Jaskier takes a deep breath - he’d never admitted this to anyone. “I’m afraid one year I simply won’t turn back - that I’ll be stuck like this. No one wants a bard with horns, Geralt!” </p><p>He’d expected Geralt to laugh, or be angry - the witcher could hardly hide his own inhumanity, after all - but he simply shook his head as he kneeled in front of Jaskier, not close enough to touch, but so Jaskier can’t help but look at his concerned golden eyes.</p><p>“You won’t.”</p><p>“And how could you possibly know that?”</p><p>“I know a fair deal of half humans, Jaskier. As you can imagine, part incubi or succubi aren’t that rare.”</p><p>Well, yes, fine, that <em>did </em>make a fair amount of sense, given just how they went about their feeding.</p><p>“You can’t be serious,” Jaskier tries, desperately, feeling his resolve crumble as the voracious pit inside of him edges closer and closer to pure agony. “Even if you wanted me, Geralt, you can’t still, not when I look like <em>this</em>.”</p><p>“It’s <em>you</em>,” Geralt says, voice uncharacteristically earnest. “I’ll always want you and,” here his voice turns mischievous, at odds with Jaskier’s inner turmoil, “Eskel was right - the horns do add a certain something.”</p><p>Jaskier can’t help the moan that escapes him - the hurt is instantly replaced with warm pleasure at Geralt’s words, washing through his body and to his fingertips. </p><p>He doesn’t miss how Geralt’s pupils dilate at the sound. </p><p>Even harder to ignore is the way Geralt’s lips feels when they crash against Jaskier’s own.</p><p>  And Jaskier never claimed to be in possession of a particularly strong will. Specially not when it came to being wanted <em>back</em> by someone he had been lusting after for <em>years</em>.</p><p>(Not to mention the other thing.)</p><p>Jaskier feels like he is burning up, but Geralt’s mouth still manages to feel warm when Jaskier explores it with his tongue, Geralt’s own inviting him inside with sensuous caresses.</p><p>Jaskier’s not sure when they move, but the feeling of hands upon the skin of his neck and chest is too good for him to think about it too long. He is too busy running his hand through Geralt’s hair, too busy memorising the ridges of muscles and scars under his fingertips, too busy being glad the loose shirt Geralt has on is much easier to remove than his armour would have been. </p><p>As Geralt’s desire grows, Jaskier can feel the pull under his skin intensify, and it fans the flames of his own want. He can feel himself stir in response, which is a stark reminder that he is very much <em>naked</em>.</p><p>Geralt seems to either realise Jaskier is in peril of getting stuck inside his head again, or maybe his sense of timing is really that good, because he pushes his hands into the thick fur on Jaskier’s backside and <em>tugs</em>, the pleased rumble the is born deep in his chest echoed by the spike of lust that nearly drowns Jaskier’s senses.</p><p>When he comes to, Geralt is in his lap, and Jaskier has no memory of him getting there.</p><p>Not that he is complaining. </p><p>“<em>Fuck</em>,” Jaskier says with feeling, Geralt’s lips having freed his own to work decidedly at Jaskier’s neck, biting and licking and <em>sucking </em>as the witcher makes pleased noises. As if of their own volition, Jaskier’s hands find their way to Geralt’s hips and when they grind him against Jaskier’s hardening cock, the witcher tosses his head back, exposing his working throat as he <em>grunts</em> in pleasure.</p><p>“<em>Please</em>,” Geralt breathes against Jaskier cheek a moment later, and Jaskier can’t help but turn his head and capture Geralt’s lips with his own. He can taste faint traces of his own blood on Geralt’s tongue, and though it should disgust him, it seems to only entice Geralt further, his hips working themselves in furious little jerks that do nothing to bring either of them any relief. </p><p>It’s <em>glorious</em>.</p><p>“<em>Anything</em>,” Jaskier mumbles between kisses, fingers digging compulsively into Geralt’s lushious bottom. “Tell me, what do you need.”</p><p>“Can’t you guess?” Geralt asks, breathless but still managing to sound teasing, the <em>little shit</em>. He punctuates his words with a particularly long grind of his ass against Jaskier.</p><p>“Don’t want to hurt you,” Jaskier finds himself saying, despite the fact that his brain is probably leaking out of his ears. </p><p>“I can take it,” Geralt says, his whole demeanour cocky as he tightens his thighs around Jaskier’s waist and once more gyrates his hips. </p><p>Jaskier never claimed to possess any sort of impulse control, either.</p><p>Taking Geralt’s thighs in his hand and urging the witcher to turn around on his lap - which he does, eagerly - is easy like this, this form far stronger than his usual one. </p><p>He doesn’t even have to focus for the ground to gently reform under him, the earth raising and molding itself until it settles into a perfectly shaped rest against his back.</p><p>“I’ll give it to you, then,” Jaskier says as he nibbles on Geralt’s earlobe, eliciting a whine from him. <em>Interesting</em>. He runs a light finger under the band of Geralt’s trousers. “Take these off.”</p><p>After some wiggling, the trousers are tossed aside, and Jaskier takes a moment to enjoy the feeling of having a very naked witcher on his lap. Geralt goes willingly when Jaskier slides his own furry knees between Geralt’s thighs and then spreads them, exposing Geralt to the crisp night air and to Jaskier’s own greedy eyes. Jaskier hums in pleasure at the sight, at the expanse of scarred, glistening, muscular flesh on offer, at the way Geralt’s Adonis’s belt points his eyes to a ruddy red erection accompanied by heavy balls, all beautifully framed by carefully trimmed white hair and muscular thighs. </p><p>“Being so good for me. Are you always this agreeable in bed?” Jaskier asks, nuzzling Geralt’s neck, drunk off the way Geralt’s lust sizzles at his words. When he’s met with silence, Jaskier runs a hand up Geralt’s torso, earning himself another whine but no reply. With a huff, Jaskier tugs meanly at one of Geralt’s erect nipples, and the moan he makes goes straight to his cock.</p><p> “Like being good for you,” Geralt finally pants, and Jaskier hums in pleasure, gentling his ministrations to Geralt’s nipples. </p><p>“I like that too,” he says, since Geralt doesn’t have a handy connection straight to Jaskier’s desires. “Well mannered boys get rewards. Think you can behave for me?”</p><p>“Yeah.” The answer comes much quicker this time, and Jaskier runs a finger up Geralt’s twitching erection, which is gently dripping with pre, as a reward.</p><p>Who would have guessed the witcher to be so vocal in bed?</p><p>“Such pretty sounds,” he says into Geralt’s neck as he reaches down between their legs for his own cock. </p><p>Here things get tricky. </p><p>Jaskier would be the first to admit that his genitals look <em>excessive</em> like this. </p><p>His bollocks hang obscenely heavy and swollen between his legs, the thick fur doing more to emphasize than to hide them. His phallus, though hidden away inside a sheath when unaroused, is exposed, the strange tapered shape not as striking upon first glance as the angry red color or the thick, transparent slick that covers the skin and oozes from the head.</p><p>It’s not hubris to say he is very generously endowed, normally, enough that he could nearly match Geralt’s in girth if not in length, and the witcher’s was a cock of considerable renown. Like this, however, he nearly dwarfs the witcher as he lines them up, spreading his slick over Geralt’s erection even as he struggles to fit his hand around both of them.</p><p>“Are you sure?” Jaskier asks, even though he can only feel Geralt’s arousal increase as he takes in the sight of Jaskier’s erection.</p><p>“<em>Jask</em>,” Geralt moans, his breath hitching with each pass of Jaskier’s hand over his prick, his hips twitching and rubbing his ass along Jaskier’s shaft. “Wanted this for so long, fuck. <em>Please.</em>”</p><p>Never let it be said Jaskier hadn’t been born to please.</p><p>Geralt whines when Jaskier lets go of their erections, but the noise turns into a delicious open mouthed moan as his slippery fingers come to rub against Geralt’s hole. The slick has pooled over Geralt’s balls and ass, and Jaskier takes a few moments to enjoy the easy glide over warm skin, taking each of Geralt’s bollocks in hand, rubbing against his groin, teasing around his twitching hole.</p><p>Jaskier is broken out of his trance by Geralt’s noises turning impatient, his hips twisting to try and chase Jaskier’s fingers.</p><p>He is pleased to note, however, that Geralt’s hands remain fisted by his sides, making no attempt to touch himself without Jaskier’s say so.</p><p>“Shh,” he says, rubbing his hand down Geralt’s trembling side. </p><p>“<em>Please</em>,” Geralt begs, doing nothing to hide the desperation in his voice, and <em>oh</em>, if that isn’t a pretty sound.</p><p>“Ask me.” </p><p>“<em>Jask</em>-,”</p><p>“Well behaved boys use their words,” Jaskier interrupts, tone mock stern. The pads of his index and middle finger are resting against Geralt’s hole, not exerting pressure. Every time Geralt tries to twitch his hips to force the fingers inside himself, Jaskier deftly avoids it, moving his hand together with Geralt’s body. </p><p>“Inside,” Geralt grunts out, voice trembling with frustration. “Anything, your fingers, your dick, just, <em>please</em>.” Jaskier presses a kiss into Geralt’s sweaty temple, humming along the punched out sound Geralt makes when he finally gets his wish. For others, he might have continued to tease, to demand a proper request - but this is Geralt. From him, Jaskier’d take it.</p><p>“Was it that hard?” Jaskier teases as he drives his fingers into Geralt - two, because he feels loose already. It gives Jaskier mental pause - though his fingers don’t relent - and, on a hunch, he takes a moment to focus. He’s rusty, but when he licks the sweat off Geralt’s skin, the taste is unmistakable - old arousal, underlaid with the new, but no hint of completion.    </p><p>“Did you get interrupted?” Jaskier asks, even if he already knows the answer. He wants to hear Geralt say it.</p><p>“W-what,” Geralt stutters, breath coming fast as his hips bear down repeatedly on Jaskier’s fingers.</p><p>Jaskier presses his fingers deep into Geralt and stills his hand, his other one coming to Geralt’s hip to hold him in place. </p><p>“Before you came after me,” Jaskier says calmly, pressing his fingers viciously into Geralt’s prostate. The almost wounded noises Geralt makes sound like music to his ears. “What were you doing?”</p><p>“Nothing!” Geralt lies, and Jaskier <em>knows</em> he can lie better than this.</p><p>He watches as Geralt’s dick twitches and a lazy dribble of pre drips onto his messy stomach. </p><p>“Did you go to the fires?” Jaskier asks, letting the image take shape in his mind, the idea of Geralt joining the villagers in the old celebrations making his own dick twitch in interest.</p><p>“No,” Geralt says, desperately. “Was alone.” Jaskier rewards Geralt with shallow thrusts of his fingers, not enough to give the witcher neither respite nor stimulation.</p><p>“Do you do that often? When I’m not there?” Geralt nods eagerly, and Jaskier deepens the movement of his hand, and then slips in a third finger.</p><p>“Sometimes when you are, too.”</p><p>“Really?” The surprise is enough to make Jaskier forget himself and stop his ministrations, though he is quickly reminded by Geralt’s impatient noises, and goes back to it.</p><p>“You’re a heavy sleeper. And can’t leave you unguarded.”</p><p>“But you also enjoy it.”</p><p>“Yes,” the confession comes like air punched out of Geralt’s lungs.</p><p>Jaskier swallows the contrite look on Geralt’s face with a kiss, the mixture of Geralt’s pleasure at the slight humiliation and the image of the witcher touching himself near a sleeping Jaskier enough to make him dizzy. </p><p>He tests out the stretch of Geralt’s hole and deems it enough. Three fingers wouldn’t be, by itself, sufficient for Geralt to take him to the base, but the tapered shape of his cock means it will progressively stretch Geralt as he goes. </p><p>He slips his fingers out of Geralt carefully, and kisses away the noise of complaint. The witcher is gone soft and pliant where he’s spread over Jaskier, and it’s easy to slide him up Jaskier’s lap, allowing him to line the cock of his head with Geralt’s hole.</p><p>The tip, barely thicker than Jaskier’s middle finger, slides easily into Geralt, and Jaskier has to be careful not to slip too far inside all at once. Even though there is no resistance, he patiently works his hips, sliding in and out, inch by inch. Geralt soon starts to make impatient noises, but Jaskier shushes him and reminds him to be a good boy, all while holding firmly to Geralt’s hip. Geralt grumbles but stops trying to wriggle quite so much.</p><p>The witcher eventually starts to understand the need for Jaskier’s care; by the time Jaskier is halfway inside, the pressure is already maddening and Geralt’s breath is coming in quick bursts.</p><p>“So good for me, taking me so beautifully,” Jaskier mumbles, pulling all the way out and sliding in, slowly, back to where he had stopped. He’d noticed the constant stream of compliments made Geralt squirm and his cock leak, a wonderful combination. </p><p>“There’s still so much,” Geralt says, between moans, as Jaskier speeds up his thrusts, taking care not to push past Geralt’s limit.  </p><p>“You don’t need to take it all,” Jaskier soothes, both hands gripping tightly around Geralt’s hips as he works the witcher up and down the tip of his cock.</p><p>“I <em>want</em> to,” Geralt whines, and <em>fuck</em>, Jaskier had spent a fair amount of time thinking about what Geralt might be like in bet, but <em>size lord </em>had somehow never struck him as a possibility.</p><p>“We’ll work up to it, then,” Jaskier promises, placatingly, not even sure what he means, but it seems to be enough for Geralt, who moans an enthusiastic assent.</p><p>They are covered in sweat at this point, Geralt’s back sliding tantalizingly against Jaskier’s chest, and his fingers start to slip on Geralt’s hips. He slides one arm across Geralt’s chest, instead.</p><p>“Here,” Jaskier says, angling them forward until Geralt understands his intent and puts his hands on the floor, settling on all fours in front of Jaskier.</p><p>He didn’t even slip the tight clutch of Geralt’s hole during the change. </p><p>“<em>Fuck me</em>,” Geralt groans at the difference in angle, and Jaskier sets to complying. He works himself deeper and deeper into Geralt - he’s attuned to Geralt’s lust, wary of pleasure turning into pain, but the witcher’s body takes him with perfection.</p><p>“Gods, you’re so tight,” Jaskier says at some point during his continuous stream of praise and filth. He’s most of the way inside, now, and Geralt’s back is trembling slightly as he braces on hands and knees and just takes what Jaskier gives him. Jaskier’s balls are starting to feel tight, and he can see the sky beginning to lighten above them. One way or another, this is ending soon. “Do you want to come?” he asks Geralt, slowing his hips to long deep thrusts as he pets Geralt’s back and teasingly slides his hand towards his crotch. Geralt’s head shakes emphatically, however, which stills Jaskier’s hand.</p><p>“Not yet,” Geralt pants, “After you. Want you to, ah, fill me up.”</p><p>“Oh, <em>darling</em>, that won’t be a problem,” Jaskier promises, snapping his hips so he finally, <em>finally</em> bottoms out.</p><p>He can barely hear Geralt’s blissed out groan over the sound of blood and pleasure and chaos in his own ears.</p><p>Jaskier sets a brutal pace, grinding against Geralt’s bottom on each forward thrust. He slides his hand into Geralt’s wild hair, tugging his head back, urging him to keep making those noises. But soon, the witcher falls to his elbows, roaring at Jaskier not to stop even as he buries his face into his forearms.</p><p>Jaskier has no plans to. </p><p>Instead, he continues to plough Geralt, and lets the chaos run and do as he wants. He usually would consider this <em>cheating</em>, but - well, who can blame him, he wants to cause a good first impression. </p><p>Jaskier can feel the tension build and grow, inside him, until the pressure is unbearable-</p><p>He holds on for one more moment, and then lets go.</p><p>The rush Geralt’s orgasm gives him is almost stronger than that of his own. He can feel the witcher’s tight channel spasm around him into almost unbearable pressure, can feel the warm flood of his come filling Geralt as requested, so much that it starts to drip down Geralt’s legs even as Jaskier furiously fucks it deeper inside the witcher, can feel the warm skin under his hands and hear Geralt’s moans of pleasure.</p><p>And he can feel the energy of Geralt’s orgasm entering him, feeding him, making him stronger, unlike any he had ever felt before - he’s afraid not to hold back but Geralt had told him he couldn’t hurt him, and he trusts Geralt. </p><p>“Yeah, take it,” Geralt is mumbling, his voice hoarse and dripping with lust as his dick continues to drip and squirt, untouched.</p><p>Well, there had to be some benefits to being an incubus, after all. </p><p>Later, Jaskier will ask Geralt how many orgasms he’d had. Unfortunately, the only answer he’ll receive will be a dirty shirt to the face, which will result in another bout of perhaps not supernatural, but pretty good sex.</p><p>Now, Jaskier slowly returns to himself, body plastered over Geralt’s back. </p><p>“We are disgusting,” Jaskier says, voice thick with post coital bliss. He doesn’t want to move, and Geralt seems to be okay with that plan so far, which he is pretty grateful for. “Fur and come are a horrifying mix, by the way.”</p><p>“Jaskier,” Geralt rumbles from where he seems to be, thankfully, still conscious. “Shut up.”</p><p>“Nope,” Jaskier gleefully replies, before nuzzling into Geralt’s sweaty hair. Geralt hums in amusement. </p><p>They truly <em>are</em> disgusting. Jaskier doesn’t even want to think of how they will look when they make their way back to the village. They’ll have to rest - if Jaskier feels exhausted, even with all the energy he consumed, he can’t even begin to imagine how Geralt must feel - and by the time they arrive at the inn the whole town will probably be up and about.</p><p>And, eventually, they will have to talk. Have several talks, probably.</p><p>But that is for later, Jaskier thinks as the first rays of sun break over the horizon. He closes his eyes and lets the chaos wash over him, only a gentle ripple now that he has indulged in his nature, taking away with it the horns and hooves and all.</p><p>“There you are,” Geralt says, pinning him with a warm golden eye, lazily drinking in Jaskier’s usual features.</p><p>“Here I am,” Jaskier whispers back, before kissing the witcher.</p><p>For now, he’ll just enjoy it.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Come yell at me about Geralt being a greedy bottom @ https://redlightofdawn.tumblr.com/</p><p>_</p><p>Marking off "monster cock" in the E card for the Geraskier 2020 Kink Bingo!</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>